


parallel

by Flora_Obsidian



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, i mean i'll tag major character death but it's not like either of them stay dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 05:19:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5772802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flora_Obsidian/pseuds/Flora_Obsidian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The universe is ever-changing, and time is always in flux. And yet there are some things that remain constant, no matter what decisions led up to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	parallel

The glass door cannot be more than a quarter of an inch thick- but it isn't glass, it's a quarter of an inch of several combinations of alloys designed to block out radiation and other things that would bring harm to the crew. Symbols have been scrawled across it, warning signs plastered everywhere to the point where it is virtually impossible to misinterpret their meaning: _enter here and you will die_.

So _why_...?

 

 

(Thin glass and a golden red shirt pressed up against it while skin curdles green.

“Spock!”)

 

 

“How's the ship?”

Each word takes an eternity to claw its way out from his throat, each word _burning_ as it does so, radiation seeping through his pores like acid, and the sentence is so garbled that it's a miracle it can even be understood, muffled as it is. The glass should be cool, he knows this, and yet all there is around him is fire, and not the fire coursing through his blood, not the fire that let him shove the warp core back into place, not that- this is slow agony, this is pain, death on its inexorable crawl forwards until its target has been reached.

“Out of danger."

“Good...”

It is more of a sigh than anything resembling actual words, but the blue-eyed, blond-haired man from Iowa visibly slumps down a little more in relief, head resting against the glass. When Spock tries to speak, his voice is shaking. _Illogical_.

“You saved the crew.”

 

 

(And as much as it hurts to stand, it will hurt even more to remain motionless, back to the man he was able to call _t'hy'la_. So he stands, he forces his legs straight, he tugs his uniform into something resembling presentable, and he turns. It isn't as graceful as he had intended it to be; he cannot get his knees to bend now that he has straightened them, and he walks into the too-thin barrier keeping them apart. In his reflection, he can see his skin turned mottled green.

“Jim.”)

 

 

 

“You used... what he wanted... against him.” Every few words, the sentence is punctuated by harsh coughing. His eyes are fluttering, his vision sliding in and out and in and out of focus even as his head grows heavier and his body sags with some inexplicable weight. “'s good move.”

“It is what you would have done.”

“...Out of danger?”

 

 

(So wrong, so _wrong_ \- that voice, that isn't _him_. That isn't the stoic calm of the man they had all come to know, the man he loved. His eyes are wrong, too- normally so alert, taking in everything and processing in their logical fashion and everything always makes sense and this _doesn't make sense_. This makes no sense, this sacrifice play- wrong, wrong, _wrong_.

“Yes.”

“Don't grieve... Admiral...”

Not Jim- not _sir_ , not _Kirk_. Admiral.)

 

 

And again, the words are slurred beyond probable recognition, but Spock _**feels**_ a stabbing pain lance through his heart.

“I'was only logic'l.”

Spock stares, unable to bring himself to speak, to touch the glass, to do _anything_ even though he knows he _should_ but he _can't_ and-

-and his mother is just inches in front of him, his arm outstretched, and he can do _nothing_ -

-and Vulcan implodes on itself into the cold recesses of space-

-and Jim tries to smile, and cannot. His next words are thrown out quickly, with shaky exhales and wide, bloodshot eyes betraying more emotion than just the hurt. Spock's brow furrows, and still he cannot bring himself to speak.

“I'm scared, Spock. Help me... not feel...”

 

 

(“It is not logical.”

He looks down at his hands, braces one against the glass for support.

“The needs of the many...”

His eyes squeeze shut of their own accord. Pain is something that can be controlled, he knows this, he _knows this_ , but-

“...the needs of the few,” Kirk finishes softly. Spock dips his head in a parody of a nod, eyes still closed.

“...or the one.”

That moment, he decides, would be a good time to bend his knees, even though he isn't walking, and he fumbles for balance as he sinks down.

“I never took... the Kobyashi Maru test... until now...” He forces his eyes open- he has retained his sight, he will die looking at that which he has deemed precious- and meets that familiar gaze. “What do you think... of my solution...?”)

 

 

Bewildered blue eyes focus on something that Spock cannot see.

“How d'you choose... not to feel?”

There is a strange lump in his throat that tries to restrict him from speaking, and a burning sensation in his nose and eyes, and a vice around his chest so that even breathing hurts.

“I... I do not know.” He shakes his head in helplessness. “Right now, I am _feeling_...”

Neither of them know if that sentence has an ending or not. Neither of them ask.

“I want... you t'know why... why I couldn' let you die.” With more effort than it had taken even to crawl through the irradiated ship, he forces himself to lift his head to meet the grief-stricken brown gaze, just inches apart from his own and still so far away. “Why I went back for you.”

 

 

(“Spock...”

His legs finally give out, and he drops like a stone, down, down, down until he finds himself with his back to one wall and his head resting against another.

“I have been...”

He has to say this, he has to, there won't be another chance, and he won't leave anything unsaid.

“..and always shall be... your friend.”)

 

 

“Because you are my friend.”

 

 

(He presses his hand to the glass with some last, hidden reserve of strength and forms the Vulcan salute. “Live long... and prosper...”

Kirk's hand presses up against the opposite side like a mirror, only to watch as Spock's hand drops away.)

 

 

Jim slides his hand to brush against the glass; Spock follows, spreading his fingers in the classic Vulcan gesture for peace and a long, prosperous life. Jim does the same- but then his hand drops, and his eyes lose something in their depths.

There is- water-? dripping onto the floor.

 

 

( _I have done far worse than kill you... I have hurt you. And I wish to go on hurting you. I shall leave you as you left me, as you left her, marooned for all eternity on the center of a dead planet... buried alive, buried alive..._ )

 

 

And there is a moment in which the universe seems to shudder- a word which spans history echoing across time and all the worlds.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and feedback are always appreciated.


End file.
